Nive Eventide is an exiled Silberkreuz Judge. He is the Thousandslayer, the Ice Serpent, the Snow Blade, the Accursed. But within his cold, calculating exterior is a hope for the redemption of a people fallen from grace. Reviews returned!

(A/N: Here is the prologue of Tsubasa Reverse, the
direct sequel of The Devil King. Leave me comments, or any indication
that you have read, especially constructive criticisms. Note that all
characters herein are mine, and the entire story is copyrighted and
cannot be reproduced in any form without my permission.)

TSUBASA
REVERSE

Act
Zero - The Promise

"The
Alliance! The Alliance is upon us!"

thrum-thrum-thrum-THrum…
boom-boom-BOOM

There
were screams. People ran, scuttling out of their homes with their
scant belongings, huddling their children around them, locking their
doors and shutting windows. The streets, once filled with beggars and
children playing sticks and stones, were now choking with the press
of people trying to either escape the doomed city or to get into the
underground shelter the government had provided. It should have been
suffocating, but it was not. It was cold, and the overcast day lent
the darkness of dusk upon the city. Torches and lamps were blown out
for fear of being used to set fire; not that the advancing soldiers
of the Alliance would not, but the citizens of Felimgrad wanted to
delay the destruction of their homes for as long as possible. Talk
pervaded the atmosphere; the once vigorous and carefree tone of the
City of Felimgrad was now uptight, panicked. There were moans,
nervous laughter, there were babes crying, of mothers explaining to
their children; the tension was so palpable it could be cut by a
knife.

The
drumbeats of the approaching army sounded closer, vibrating across
the air, sending tremors through the ground.

THrum-THrum-THRUM

The
last of Harmonia's battered forces formed up, rank upon rank, on
the city square, while those that could be spared held the three
gates of the city on the west, south, and east, setting up traps,
trenches, wooden pike-barricades, while others walked on the
battlements of the city, sprinkling caltrops outside the walls, while
still more hunkered down inside towers and fitted arrows through the
murder holes. The wind was still; banners and flags were limp.
Trebuchets were loaded with stones, boiling oil was poured into great
pots that would be upended upon attackers scaling the walls or
entering the gates. Spears and blades were sharpened and sheathed,
while officers hastily conducted inspection upon their companies. It
was not only Felimgrad itself that was bustling with activity; the
Royal Barracks just southeast of the Divine Palace, which was set
inside a man-made river at the northernmost of the city, was a
beehive of energy, the soldiers trading half-hearted jokes as they
marched to their formations, wishing their comrades good luck, or
stealing one last bite of bread.

It
was year 162 of the Winter Age. For two years the Fifteenth Winter
War had raged, and yet there was no victorious army that had the
right to rule Harmonia. The Conclave, that all-powerful
council that administrated the Winter Wars, had already dispatched
its own army, the Cruzada, led by the Judges, to break
the stalemate, but it was for nothing. Still the Alliance advanced
down to the last city of Harmonia: Felimgrad—the capital, seat of the Demeter Throne—like an unstoppable swarm of
locusts, and on their trail was nothing but destruction and ruin. Now
they were in sight of the city walls, a few leagues away—the
country of Harmonia was on a peninsula slanting to the southwest—and
only the faithful soldiers of this city stood against them and their
quest to rule the nation.

The
soldiers gasped at the monstrous size of the Alliance army, composed
of all the soldiers of the Outer Kingdoms—thousands upon thousands,
hundreds of thousands, of soldiers in mail and sword and spear,
thousands of archers both on mounts and on foot, knights clad in
shining plate and holding their standards on their shields and
banners, warhorses in grim armor as their masters, pikemen, sellswords and all sorts of fighting men were assembled, marching
with steady cadence to the low rumble of drums and trumpets. Huge
siege towers and rolling catapults were scattered over their
formation, huge behemoths that goaded the insect-like footmen around
them. And on the vanguard lines marched the gloomy visage of the
Deimos, the half-human half-monster abominations that possessed
forbidden magic—and who were responsible for the annihilation of
Harmonian soldiers that held against the Alliance advance.

"Ready
your weapons!" shouted the clear, strong note of the wall
commander on the East Gate. Around him on the battlements, soldiers
ignited the loads on the defending trebuchets, and packed the
scorpions with their massive harpoons. The archers, lined up all along the wall and others
hidden inside it, drew arrows and
nocked them on their bows. The sky was still darkening.

The
Alliance army still advanced. Their trumpets greeted the defenders.

Harrrooooooommmm

Felimgrad
didn't deign answer. More soldiers were sent to reinforce the East
Gate, but all of them knew that it was a hopeless battle. Even then,
the Alliance's battering rams were set, the scaling ladders were
unfolded, and the siege towers were loaded with men. The catapults
finally reached firing distance, wedged onto the soft, yielding earth
thankfully without any snow, and lit up with fire, the boulders'
net covering instantly catching.

Below, at the East Gate itself, entire battalions of Harmonian defenders
braced for the last battle of their lives, while sweat and tears
stung their eyes. Others clasped the flowers the citizens had given
them, knowing that it would be their greatest and most heroic
accomplishment yet—to die for their country—while some tested the
balance of their swords,twirling them at their sides. Their
commanders shouted at them, giving them encouragement for their
deaths ahead, as they answered with determined voices, weeping yet
exhilarated, banging their shields and blades together. This was the
day, they said; the final hour.

"How
are we doing?" the Knight Commander, the overall warlord of the
Harmonian army—or what was left of it—asked his
lieutenant. They were mounted on their powerful black destriers,
massive warhorses bred for combat, as they rode toward their
formation. The Knight Commander wore red-and-gold plate with his
joints exposed for mobility, a flaring red cloak on his shoulders
embroidered with the seal of the Royal Panzers, while his horse was
barded with lobstered mail much like him. His armor was very light,
though. It was thin, but able to withstand at least a glancing blow.

The
comely young knight with her braided golden hair looked at him,
shamefaced. "My lord?"

"It's
all right to be afraid." He smiled, and reached over and patted her
on the shoulder. She clasped her commander's arm. "Be
afraid once in a while, but know this: the difference between a
coward and a brave man is that the coward fears and runs; the
brave man fears but meets it."

"I
understand, my lord." She nodded.

He
withdrew his hand and heaved. "Now tell me. I want the truth."

"We
don't have a chance," she said quietly, as they went on towards
the formation on the East Gate. The size of the defending force was
impressive, but they were severely outnumbered by nearly ten to one.
"We have scraped all the able-bodied men we were able to find in
the city, as you've told us to, and our reservists are nothing more
than pardoned brigands. My lord, we… we are out of hope."

"I
see." He shook his head. "We can at least buy time for His
Majesty to get out of the city. As long as he's alive, the country
lives. We are not yet beaten."

Kera
gave him a quizzical, sidelong look. "Do you… pardon me my lord,
but do you really believe in his ideals? The king, I mean."

The
Knight Commander gazed at her with sympathy and mirth in his eyes,
and Kera averted her eyes, blushing. Before she could stammer a reply
the knight spoke. "It is not whether I believe him or not, my lady."
He fell silent and the noise of the preparations of the defense
enveloped them both before he continued. "He is the rightful ruler
of Harmonia and I am, in my position, obliged to defend and protect
him. We all swore an oath. We will honor it, Kera."

"I…
Yes, my lord." She looked down and caressed the side of the neck of
her horse. Her captain was right, even though he had evaded the
question. Her feelings against the king were unimportant; what
mattered was they all had sworn an oath in front of the Vicars of
Imrassar and the people of Harmonia, and they were beholden to keep
it in the sights of God and men. Kera glanced at her commander and
felt her heart beat faster. She had always loved the man, and it
almost broke her when he was wedded to the Crown Princess of
Harmonia. There were times when he was so close she didn't want
anything but to take him in her arms, the Knight Code and the royalty
be damned… but she knew it would degrade her in his sight, and it
was one thing she wouldn't allow to happen. So she had always been
hoping; hoping that one day the Knight Commander would notice that
she was a woman.

She
was startled from her thoughts when they suddenly stopped and the
knight looked up at the darkening sky. Harmonia had always been free
from snow and the clouds would only get murky and dim when there was
approaching rain. But now, she could feel that there was
something evil afoot—there was something wrong, and everybody could
sense it.

"It's
coming," the Knight Commander said.

"Yes,"
she replied, not even knowing what it was she was agreeing to, and
surveyed what was before her.

The East Gate Atrium was a large, open
area, dominated by a large obelisk made of crystal at the very
center, and bordered on the left and right by immaculately-carved
arcades. Kera remembered making a purchase or two here during
peacetime: merchants would once line along and hawk their goods to
passersby and visitors. Sighing wistfully, her eyes explored the
magnificent facades of buildings surrounding the Atrium, the silent
witnesses of when she was brought—dragged—here by slave traders
four years ago, only to be rescued by the man she came to love, all
the while the kaleidoscope of colors standing mute and merciless. Now
what beauty the area had was gone and were instead crammed with grim
soldiers, nervous archers and crossbowmen perched atop roofs, window
eaves, and every type of elevation that could be afforded; and
banners, pennants, and flags lying limp and lifeless on poles borne
by ashen carriers. The East Atrium was, if she recalled properly,
about a mile across, and another mile from its gatehouse to the inner
city walls where they were now exiting.

This was what the Knight Commander and
Kera found as they approached on their horses. The street leading
downward to the Atrium was now littered with refuse in the chaos
earlier where the soldiers had evacuated the civilians to the
Labyrinth, an underground network that led to the port town of
Mannsted. This was where ships awaited them at the harbors that could ferry
them to the allied island nation of Salamea, still blessedly
untouched by the carnage. This nation had once aided in this most brutal
Winter War yet, but their vaunted navy had been decimated when the
Alliance unleashed their ultimate weapons, although still marginally safer
compared to Felimgrad, which was facing its imminent destruction.

"My
lord commander," said a soldier who bowed before them. "The
Alliance sends a message to you."

"Indeed,"
the Knight Commander said impassively, noting three others behind the
man, one of them garbed strangely. "What is it?"

The
soldier turned around and motioned for his other comrades. At once
the men-at-arms in full battle gear started forward, a man in a soiled
black cloak covering his entire body leading between them. His long
blond hair fell too neatly around him while his eyes, grey as smoke,
held the Knight Commander's gaze steadily and firmly, and his face,
clear and as delicate as a maiden, showed no sign of grime or sweat.
Yet his cloak was all but clean—what was this man?

"My
lord, the Alliance messenger," the soldier from before introduced
the stranger.

"I
am no… messenger," the person said clearly. His eyes now
bore into the Knight Commander's soul.

"Why
have you come here, then?" the Knight Commander asked quietly. Kera
shifted on her saddle as her mount swayed. There was a strain of
wills between them, invisible perhaps but tangible nonetheless; even
her horse could feel it. She could already hear sparks flying across
them as they stared into one another as if they were dueling with
their blades.

"I
deliver a warning, general," the man said in an equally deadpan
manner. "I know the royal family hides in the palace. Get them out
of there, or they will be killed."

The
Knight Commander didn't move, but the reactions of the soldiers
around the stranger spoke for their lord. Blades were drawn with
curses and the two behind the man forced him to his knees in front of
their lord's warhorse. He didn't resist, though, and even as
Kera's fury was inflamed she repressed it, looking uncertainly at
her master. Their destriers were clearly uncomfortable with this,
snorting.

"My
name does not matter… my lord." Kera was surprised when the man
bowed. "My service extends not only to Harmonia but to the world as
well. Please evacuate the royal family from the palace."

"You
have such a gall to command us?" Kera hotly interrupted. She
wouldn't brook any slight on her master, least of all from a
vagabond, or worse, an assassin.

"I
am not giving out orders, Lady Kera Evergrace," the man said,
still bowed. The half-Elven maiden was dumbstruck at the mention of
her name from a stranger, and was silenced further when he continued.
"Consider it… a divine will. Harmonia will not survive the
attack, but there is hope in the future if you will just heed my
warning. Send the royal family away from the palace… that I beg of
you."

"My
lord, I beg your leave to lop the head off this beggar," the
soldier who introduced him asked the Knight Commander. He had drawn
his sword and was pressing its edge against the kneeling man's
neck.

The
Knight Commander just gazed at him.

"My
lord?"

He
held up a hand. "No, I wish to hear what he has to say."

"General,
I don't have anything to say. You are running out of time," the
blond stranger said. "They will be releasing the first wave of the
Deimos to level your defenses. The East Gate will be toppled and its
destruction will bury half of your men alive. You will be killed in
battle, and Salamea will barely save the remnants of your people.
Felimgrad is doomed, great lord… but Harmonia will survive if you
hear what it was that I have come here for."

"Are
you some kind of prophet, man?" the Knight Commander queried.

"That
I am not." There was a note of hesitation on his voice.

"Then
how do you know these things?"

"Because…
because I was here when it happened."

A
scream, high-pitched, frightened and despairing from the topmost
towers punctuated the statement. "DEIMOS! The Deimos are
COMING!"

Kera
snapped her head up as soldiers rushed to their positions, archers on the rooftops trained their bows on the sky, sweating and
shaking, while still more others made the sign of Imrassar on their
foreheads or cowered under shelters. There was a bustle of panic, of
anticipation… of bloodlust and sacrifice, of knowledge that this
was one battle they couldn't shy away from, and would die in their
futile attempt to protect their country. They knew, Kera thought,
mortified, like all of them knew. They were here only to buy time for
their citizens to escape—there was no hope of real defense.

As
the commotion erupted around them and the stranger was left with the
Knight Commander and Kera, trumpets blared and shouts of captains
bellowing at their men resounded throughout the Atrium. And finally,
a wind blew. Black specks on the sky were coming closer, and more of
them than Kera could ever be able to count.

"Why
do you help us, stranger?"

"My
lord, do you really believe this man?" Kera said disbelievingly.
"He has squandered your time enough. Let us be off and marshal our
men."

"No,
Kera."

"Wha—"

The
stranger stood up, facing them. "I was cursed. And I see these
things that no man can see. I have seen the calamity that befell this
city…

"Crown
Princess Cassiel and her father are inside the palace, quivering in
fear. Take them to safety. Princess Amitiel is conversing with a boy…
the boy will survive, but the Princess must be safeguarded."

"I
ask again, stranger." There were cries as the arrows were loosed in
the air. There were clinks of metal as the footmen backed a pace,
their necks aimed at the sky, and a heartbeat later they could hear
the characteristic hissing passage of the arrows as they rent through
the wind. The Deimos were almost on them, and there was no time.
Felimgrad was finally under attack; the Last Siege had begun.

"My
lord, we have to go!" Kera yelled, spurring her horse forward and
drawing her two-handed sword from the sheath on her horse's
saddlebag. When the Knight Commander did not move she muttered a
curse and galloped to the formation, shouting her battle cry,
spinning her sword in the air.

"I
ask again. Why do you help us?"

The
stranger undid the cloak on him and let it fall, and the Knight
Commander's eyes took it all in, who the man before him really
was—what the man in front of him was. "Because I am here, my
lord Caladvor Zethia…

The
Knight Commander's jaw dropped. Screams rose and fell around him.

The
visitor's grey eyes held him fast, like icicles that spoke both of
sorrow and pain. "… to keep the promise I had made, ages ago."